


086 - Friends with Benefits

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “a friends with benefits kind of story where you meet in the elevator bc you live in the same apartment building and become best friends and then ya know the benefits part”





	086 - Friends with Benefits

You stood at the shiny metal doors of the fifth floor elevator. You'd been waiting for a while, but you didn't time it. Maybe it just felt like it had been minutes. You checked the time on your phone; 10.34am. You considered what could be taking it so long. Maybe it was broken. You checked again; 10.36am. A second away from dramatically drudging down the stairs, and the elevator made a rumble. You stepped back, listened to the bell sound announcing its arrival, and watched the doors slide open.

The elevator was completely and utterly packed with boxes and furniture. The doors went to close, and you heard a voice. "Fuck!" they yelled, and you quickly put your hands in the way. The doors opened again. "Hello?" the voice called. You tried to see them behind all the stuff, but wherever they were, they were hidden well.

"Hi… Do you need help?" you asked slowly, confused at how they had gotten themselves into this situation.

"Yes. Please. Thank you. Fucking Larry said the doors opened the other way,”

"I think Larry was fucking with you," you replied, laughing.

"Looks that way." You moved a few boxes and found a boy. He reached a hand out over a chair. "I'm Van. Moving in,"

"Yep. I figured that. I'm Y/N."

And that's how you met Van. He and Larry became regular guests at your dinner table; neither possessed any skills in the kitchen. They would bring you wine, weed and flowers enough to make up for the amount of food you made for them. When Larry started to see the girl in 2A he spent less time with you and Van. It was good for him, and you were happy, but it left a space in Van's social life that he was forcing you to fill. He'd knock on your door every other night and whine against your door frame until you let him in.

…

One night he threatened you with his probable demise. "Y/N. If you don't feed me, I'll starve, see," he said and lifted his shirt and sucked in as hard as he could. His rib cage stuck out and it was creepy to look at. You poked his sides and tickled your fingers along the bones. He giggled and pushed you away by pushing you inside your apartment. He followed you in and closed the door. "Literally anything. Cheese toastie me up."

You put two different types of cheese and a little bit of sweet chili sauce between the bread and lathered the outside in butter. As it fried in the pan Van stood next to you, leaning against the kitchen bench. "Get a plate," you instructed. He knew exactly where they were, and picked the Bugs Bunny one you had had since you were a kid. You cut the grilled cheese in the pan, then put it on his plate. "Give it a sec or you'll burn yourself." You wanted to believe he'd logically and naturally wait for it to cool, but you knew Van better than that. He followed you out of the kitchen and into the lounge room. You sat side by side on the couch. You flicked through television channels looking for something watchable. In the end you left it on EastEnders at Van's request.

You watched Van eat the toastie out of the corner of your eye. You loved how much he loved basic comfort food. When he was done he took his plate to the kitchen and brought back tea for both of you. "Y/N?"

"Yeah, bub,"

"You're the best,"

"Yeah. I am,"

"No, like, you're actual class, and I love you to bits," he said and there was a sincerity you'd not heard in his words before. He nodded to himself, like he'd done a good thing, then went back to watching the screen.

…

You collected Van and Larry's mail and watered their two plants while they went on tour. When they got home, you cooked them a Sunday roast dinner. It felt good to have them back. Larry went home to bed soon after dinner, and left Van lying on your couch. He was never tired. "I'm always like this when we get back. Just, like, itching to get started on the next thing, you know?" he said. You nodded and watched him try to tuck hair behind his ear. It wasn't quite long enough.

You got your laptop out and watched some grainy, shaky clips of the shows he'd just played. He was impressive, but your favourite thing was the chanting of Larry's name whenever he appeared. "People fucking love him, don't they?" you laughed.

"What's not to love?" Van replied. You looked over at Van. He was barefoot, and his jeans were tight. He had a long sleeve white t-shirt on. His necklace looked tangled, and you had the sudden compulsion to fix it. You walked over and dropped to your knees next to him. You ran your fingers along the chain until it was smoothed out, and the pendant sat neatly where it should. Van was still as you did it, not asking what you were doing or why. When you were done you smiled to yourself and looked up at his face. He was watching you carefully. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Your brain told you to move, but your body was frozen. Then, he muttered "Fuck," and leant down and kissed you. You kissed back and pushed up into him.

It was on. His arms pulled you up onto the couch and you tangled your limbs up together. There was a lack of foreplay, and an urgency in the movements. Like you had always been magnets pulling towards each other, and now you were too close to do anything other than slam together and not come apart. You were reactionary and complementary. When Van bit down hard on your thigh, you pulled his hair until he cussed. When he wrapped his arms around you completely and pushed into you, you folded your legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

When it was done you stayed tangled; glued to each other with sweat and body fluid. There was no time for contraception, and he'd had to pull out before he came. There was mess everywhere. When you could both breathe again, you started to laugh. Van did too.

"Fuck," he said.

"Yeah,"

"Um… I'll get you-"

"No. It's alright. I'll be back," you replied and got to your feet. In the bathroom you cleaned your skin, and in the bedroom put on fresh pyjamas. You found Van in the kitchen, in his jeans again. You hoped whatever he used to wipe the evidence away was now in the wash or bin.

…

You didn't really talk about what had happened. You weren't even sure Van told Larry; he usually told him everything, so if he didn't it was weird. A few weeks later, though, it happened again. You went with them to a gig, and drinks after. You'd been making out with a random person when Larry tapped you on the shoulder asking if you wanted to go home with them, or if you were good to find your own way home. In the back of the uber a very drunk Van watched you. You looked down at your hand. It was close to his, and he slowly threaded his fingers through yours.

On the fifth floor Van said, "I'll just make sure she gets tucked in," to Larry. Larry smiled and walked down the hallway to their apartment. As soon as you unlocked the door Van was pushing you inside and lifting your dress over your head. "Who was that at the club?" he asked between kisses.

"I don't know. Didn't ask for a name. Jealous?"

"Nope. Inspired."

…

When it started to be a regular thing, you let yourself consider what was happening. You invited your friend over, and as you sat on the windowsill of your bedroom watching the world go by she asked if you liked him. "Like, like like, you know?"

"I don't think so? I love him, a lot. But just as a friend?"

"Are you just telling yourself that so you don't get hurt?" A valid question. You thought.

"No. I got up early the other day to get to the markets as they opened, and there was a girl sneaking out their apartment. We rode the elevator down and I asked if she was friends with Larry and Van. She goes 'Larry's his housemate, right?' so she'd been there with Van. I didn't feel jealous or anything," you told her.

"That's good then,"

"Yeah. It is. Dating a band dude would be the fucking worst anyway. They'd always be on tour,"

"Would make it really hard to, like, settle down. Establish a proper relationship," she agreed.

"Yeah. Also Van does this thing where he wipes his nose on his sleeve. I think sometimes it's out of habit, but it's still fucking gross,"

"Also I'm pretty sure he's in love with Larry, so…"

You laughed. She was right. "Yeah, there's that too." It was settled, then. You definitely did not have a crush on Van. It was a relief to say it out loud, make it real.

…

For Van's birthday on the first of August, you made him thick, gooey chocolate brownies. Larry wasn't home when you went over, so you sat with Van on the couch and watched him eat. "Good?" you asked. He nodded happily. He had three. After, you lazily lied on each other watching daytime television. "Van? We're like… good, right? On the same page?"

"On the same page 'bout what?" he replied, still watching the screen and playing with your hair.

"Us. The, uh, sex. You know?" He didn't answer at first, and you sat up to look at him. He was smirking. He looked at you and nodded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm not gonna ruin this with feelings, Y/N,"

"Because you don't have any, right?"

"I don't think I've ever had a girl look so stressed about me having feelings. Normally they want that to be a thing," he laughed. "I don't. I think you're smart and cool and beautiful, but we're just friends,"

"Oh thank fuck!" you breathed out.

"Not everyone that meets you falls in love with you, Y/N, gosh,"

"Fuck off," you replied, poking his sides. He grabbed your hand and pulled you into a hug.

"Nah. This whole friends with benefits thing is working out just fine for me."

It was for you too. You hung around his for a little while longer, then went home to get changed for his party. At the end of the night, in the very early morning, people started to make their way home. You watched Van disappear into his bedroom with a girl who had a birthmark on her face. She was beautiful and you wanted to know where she got her skirt from. As he closed the door you made eye contact. You held your glass up to him, in cheers. He winked and the door closed.


End file.
